


Calm

by TriaElf9



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaElf9/pseuds/TriaElf9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A worried Cullen looks for the Inquisitor who'd promised to meet him that morning, but she hadn't showed. Celyse never would have forgotten, could something be wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calm

**Author's Note:**

> Fic and pic combo. A fluffy thing I wrote a while back when I first got way to deep into it with Celyse and Cullen. The first fic I've ever written (I mostly write and draw comics), and it's been a while since I've written prose, so hopefully it's okay ^///^ A few feels to start with, but mostly fluff. Picture drawn by me as well. Originally posted on Tumblr: http://triaelf9.tumblr.com/post/122680285394/a-picture-and-a-fic-probably-the-first-fic  
> I hope you enjoy it! ^_^

Where was she?

Cullen strode across the walkway towards the main hall, worry creasing his brow. Celyse hadn’t met him in their usual spot on the battlements after breakfast, as they had agreed. It wasn’t entirely unlike her to sleep late on some mornings, particularly as she’d just returned from a month-long trip away on Inquisition business. It was, however, very unlike her to promise to meet and then not show.

Each step he took, the nagging feeling in his gut clutched a little tighter. She had mentioned she’d been injured on this particular trip in her report. Nothing major, she’d said, just a small thump to her head, but what if it was more serious than she’d admitted? He’d seen soldiers take a blow to the head and seem perfectly fine, but much later they would rapidly deteriorate. He remembered one who had gone to sleep and never woken again. What if....

Cullen yanked open the door to the atrium, tossing out a brief greeting as he passed Solas at his desk. The elf responded in turn, but didn’t bother to look up from his book, he could tell the Commander was in a hurry.

Opening the door to the hall with probably more force than intended, Cullen glanced to the fireplace where Varric sat writing. The dwarf had looked up at the sudden noise, and their eyes met. Cullen didn’t even have to say who he was looking for, Varric knew. He shook his head. He hadn’t seen her today. That meant....

She hadn’t left her room.

Cullen nodded and turned away, weaving through the throngs of people that always milled around, chatting in the hall. They murmured things to him, or perhaps about him, he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t listening. His eyes were focused on the door that lead to the Inquisitor’s chambers, nothing else seemed to matter.

What exactly did the report say had happened? Celyse had been vague, she hated to worry him, but Cullen had overheard Bull bragging at the tavern that night that the chief had taken a Behemoth’s arm to the head and had kept on fighting despite it. Cullen knew Celyse was tough, he’d seen her fight on more than one occasion, but a Behemoth? Even with magical treatment, that couldn’t have been an easy injury to shake off. Then again, it was Bull telling the story, he did tend to exaggerate when it came to feats in battle. But just how much of an exaggeration had it been?

Cullen forced himself to cross the hall at an even pace, despite the panic that was starting to creep through him. Opening the door to the stairs that lead to Celyse’s room, he broke into a run as soon as he was out of sight of the gossipmongers in the hall, taking stairs two at a time. Without a second thought, he burst into the room and dashed up the remaining stairs. Cullen scanned the room frantically. She wasn’t hard to locate.

Celyse was splayed out on her desk, short, tousled white hair glinting in the morning light, various papers littered around and under her, a quill still in her hand. Fear twisted itself around his heart and squeezed. Was she...?

Then he noticed the slight, but very steady, rise and fall of her back and heard the telltale soft inhale –which she insisted was  _not_  snoring – that he knew so well. Cullen let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. She was just asleep.

As the tight knot in his chest loosened and he felt the tension in his shoulders drain away, he allowed himself a small smile. Poor Celyse, she’d probably worked all night to catch up on the month of paperwork she’d missed while away. Josephine had assured her it could wait until she was rested up, but Celyse had said she would get done right away. Evidently, she’d underestimated just how much was waiting for her back in her room, and, of course, had insisted on keeping her word.

As Cullen walked closer to the table, he couldn’t help but be impressed with the amount she had gotten done in one night, even if there was still quite a lot left to be done. Josephine would be happy with the large stack of completed work that sat on one side of the desk, but less so that Celyse had stayed up the night to finish it. Cullen looked back at Celyse and chuckled quietly.

She had fallen asleep on top of a particularly large pile of parchment, not gracefully, but then again, it was Celyse. As a two-handed fighter, grace was not her strong point, her strength and stamina were. It was clearly the latter that had gotten her through most of the night. She’d clearly been mid- signature when she’d finally fallen asleep, as the line of ink that trailed off the paper lead straight to the hand still holding the quill.

Cullen sighed. “I suppose our big reunion will have to wait,” he murmured to the sleeping elf, eyes crinkling in a smile. “But you can’t sleep there, the others would have my head if I left you like this.”

Soft, deep breaths and no answer confirmed what he suspected: she was out cold. Celyse and her companions had only arrived back at Skyhold yesterday, and it’d taken a full day of travel to get through the mountains. And on top of that, she’d worked through the night. She would probably sleep the whole day. Cullen knew that once she was out, she was  _out_ , which was probably best, considering that he slept… not as soundly.

Removing the quill from her hand and placing it back in its inkwell, he slipped an arm under her knees and the other around her back, bracing his hand against her side. Gently, reverently, he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. The blanket was tucked in, not well, but enough to show that she had indeed never made it anywhere near it that night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling Celyse against his arm, he was able to tug the blanket down enough to get her under it. Tucking her in, she continued to sleep just as soundly as she had on the desk. Some of her hair had fallen across her eyes, so he lightly pulled it aside, his thumb brushing across the smattering of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Despite the gloves he wore, he could feel the warmth of her skin through the leather, and his earlier fears that he might never feel that warmth again flashed through his mind. The ache of that worry intertwined with the ache of seeing Celyse again after her long time away, and Cullen felt like his heart might burst. He gripped the blanket, longing to scoop her up and never let go, but reluctant to wake her after her long night. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the temple.

And then, still deep in sleep, she smiled, snuggled into her pillow and sighed contentedly.

Cullen felt his breath catch and something flip-flopped in his chest. The ache didn’t leave entirely, but it did lessen. She was home, she was alive, she was happy, and she’d chosen him.  _Him._  There were days when he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Maker only knew what she saw in him, but despite it all, chosen him she had.

And sitting beside her on her bed, listening as she continued to –definitely  _not_ – snore lightly, he felt a peace wash over him like cool water over parched skin after a very long, hot day. A calm that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

For once, everything was just right.

 


End file.
